Stars and Lilies
by IzzySenpaiChan
Summary: Bulma loves Yamcha to death - but some part of her says that he needs a more flexible relationship. It shows in the subtle flirting he tends to do. The problem is, Bulma doesn't want to share a man. So, instead of tearing the relationship, she schemes a plan to give Yamcha a taste of his own medicine. Her secret weapon? Vegeta...but she gets more than she planned. (No Yamcha bash!)
1. Chapter 1: Arguments

(Hello! It is widely known that many people do the famous three years. However, I seem to notice that there are so little that just stand out in their uniqueness. My story is nowhere near theirs. Mine is one lower to the side, one that will most likely not be much known. But I had too much of an urge to write this! It's such a beautiful plot about confession and confiding into each other that I daresay it is one of the best love stories made. Each chapter is split: The first is Bulma's P.O.V., the second Vegeta's. 0v0

My last piece of information would be that the mention of Vegeta's past does reference my other story, "Sick Memories". So far it is my favorite story, as well as my only other one on this account. XD I hope you go and give that a good read as well!

So, without further adieu, I give you Lilies and Stars Chapter one!)

Chapter One: Problems

-  
 _Dark Side- Kelly Clarkson_

 _There's a place that I know_  
 _It's not pretty there_  
 _And few have ever gone_  
 _If I show it to you now, will it make you run away?_  
 _Or will you stay, even if it hurts?_  
 _Even if I try to push you out, will you return?_  
 _And remind me who I really am_  
 _Please remind me who I really am..._

-  
(BULMA'S P.O.V)

"What?!"

"I'm sorry, Bulma, I really didn't mean for-"

"Mean for WHAT?! You flirted with her!" My fists clenched around the phone, my teeth grinding together. My voice was growing lower and lower the angrier I got.

"No, no, it was the other way around-"

"YOU walked up to HER!"

"Bulma, please, you know how much I love you-" he attempted to say before I hung up. Of course, he didn't know it, but I had tears in my eyes. He was cheating on me! Or, well, he flirted...well...he checked someone out. On a date! I ran a hand through my hair, feeling the dampness of a shower I had taken previously.

I put my cellphone down on the end table next to my bed that held my lamp. I wiped the tears from my eyes. I did love Yamcha...with all my heart. But it hurt knowing he saw other women in the same light as me. I knew he loved me back...he just needed an open relationship. Maybe that's what I needed to make it? A relationship to allow others? No...I would grow jealous. It would be a terrible move.

I sat up from my bed. I swung my legs over and looked outside. The sun was barely reaching the horizon. It sent a golden light through the blinds on my window, making the room a different color yellow than it was. It stung my eyes momentarily, but I blinked it away. I had been talking with Yamcha for a painfully long time. It had started out fine - a simple hello and sweet talking. And then I recalled the date. He had been looking at one girl in particular at the café. The memory sent my blood boiling red hot.

As I threw on a simple thick sweater over my tank top, I thought about how I was probably overreacting. All men like other women...at least find them attractive. Why shouldn't they when in a relationship? Even so, it hurt. I didn't look at others when I'm with him. I shook my head. Instead of putting the front of my afro up in a hair tie as usual, I let the annoying part stay down. It didn't seem to make more of a difference to others, but it didn't make it any less annoying to me. I put on skinny and chocolate boots that went to just below my knees, tying the pom poms around in a simple knot.

I went out the door, not bothering to shower. I showered in the middle of the night while I was talking to Yamcha. Then I realized just how long I had been up. I had only gotten about three hours of sleep at most. Helping Dad with his inventions and then talking took a lot out of me.

I went downstairs, expecting to see the "king" of the house. He was nowhere to be found, even with the scent of Mom's delicious eggs and bacon in the air. I already knew his senses were much more heightened than a human's. He must be training.

Pushing the thought from my mind, I saw my mom with a floral apron with her back to me. In front of her were two pans, one with the said eggs and the other with the said bacon. She hummed a small tune to herself as she cooked.

I went to the small table near the oven. Of course, there was a dining room, but this table made for snacking or something light for two or three people. Mom didn't hear me sit down. "Hey, Mom," I say with a yawn. She turned with a smile.

"Bulma, dear! You look tired." Her smile fell, replaced with a concerned frown. "Did you sleep at all?" Her accent made it a lot more interesting to listen to her. As for my answer, I gave a curt nod. It was better than full-out lying verbally. Verbally, I was a terrible liar. Nodding and shaking my head was something I could do.

She set the flames low, sitting down across from me. "What happened?" She was psychic - I guess all moms were. Would I be that way? Able to read my kids with ease?

"Nothing, Mom," I said, my voice shaky as my hand darted to the side.

"I can tell when you're lying, dear." She put a hand on mine. "Tell me. You look outrageously tired."

I sighed, leaning back in the chair, my hand out of her reach. "Yamcha. He checked a girl out on our date and I blew up on him."

"Oh, dear." She looked at me sympathetically. "That's not right. Did you talk him through?"

"...Kind of..." I murmur. "I was mad...he just seems to need a more elastic relationship, Mom...I'm not that type of girl-"

"And you don't need to be. You'll find your man, if worse comes to worse. But I hope you both make up." She smiled. "Vegeta, glad you could join us!" I looked to my right, seeing the elusive king of the place - that's how he acted, anyway - dressed in his armor. I finally had gotten it back to him after washing it. Along with his armor, he wore his usual scowl. I'd never seen him smile throughout the whole entire time he's been with us here - about a year now.

The closest I had gotten was a smirk. I only got that when I either amused him in an argument or he won it. Usually I'd say that he never won a squabble between the two of us, but he does have a sharp tongue. Of course, I'd never say it to his face, but I could say we were equals when it came to insulting.

He didn't say anything, but he smirked. He must have heard the conversation. I rolled my eyes. He didn't know what emotions a girl has. Heck, I bet he doesn't even know how to say something polite!

"Eggs and bacon are cooking. Should be ready in about ten minutes," said my mother. Vegeta made no response to this, merely walking on in the direction he had been going in.

Ten minutes later, breakfast was served. All of us ate at the dining room table, omitting Vegeta, talking about news and new feats. Eventually it got down to me.

"So, what is this I'm hearing about Yamcha?" Dad looked over to me, Scratches giving me her blank stare from his shoulder.

"Hm? Oh, him." I gave a light laugh, though I really didn't want to bring it up. "We're doing fine."

"Your mother says otherwise, my dear. Seems he isn't faithful, hm?" He looked at me with probing eyes - Scratches mimicked him perfectly.

"He just...flirted around," I say dismissively. I took a bite of my fried eggs. "Nothing no man doesn't do."

"Oh, Bulma, I don't do that!" He chuckled. "Your boyfriend isn't meant to flirt around. But you can forgive and forget."

Problem was, I wasn't one to just forgive and forget. It was only a small bit of flirting, but it hurt. My heart was beating sluggishly. Usually my heart would race at the mention of Yamcha. But lately, after the flirting, it seemed to go even slower at the utterance of his name. I must have spaced out, as both parents were looking at me expectantly. I smiled, laughing nervously. "I'm not that type of person, Dad..."

"How about expanding the relationship?"

"Like...allowing both of you to see other people, but not exclusively," he explained. I blinked.

"I really don't want to expand the relationship. I mean, I want to be the only one he sees. I know that's selfish, but I can't stand the idea of him liking other women..."

My parents exchanged looks as if having someone telepathic conversation. Scratches stared straight at me. It sent a shiver down my spine.

"We just want you to be happy, dear," I heard Mom say. "Maybe it isn't the relationship you're looking for."

I wanted to run a hand through my hair, but it would make me look stressed. My hand stayed still. "Yamcha just hasn't adjusted to being with a girl," I state, more to myself than to my parents. "He doesn't know these things..."

"That doesn't give him the right to flirt, dear. He's done it a couple of times..."

"I'll give him a week after we talk about it..." I continued to eat the breakfast Mom had made without tasting it. I was the first to put my plate into the dishwasher and leave the dining room.

My heart felt heavy as I went to walk to the stairs. Vegeta passed by me, plate in hand. He glanced at me, but didn't say a word. He smirked. I didn't bother asking him about why. He probably found my expression amusing. I heard the sound of the sink being turned on, but not the dishwasher being opened. I sighed inwardly. He probably set the plate next to the sink for my parents to get. I swear, he can be a total slob sometimes...well, then again, I never actually saw the room he stayed in. I didn't know whether or not he kept it clean or just happened to throw everything around. I pushed the thought away. It was none of my business. His room was his room.

I went upstairs and turned to the left to go to my room. All I wanted to do was go to sleep. It was a lot easier to pass the time without thinking of Yamcha. Yamcha...

There I went again. Thinking about him. God, I want to talk to him. But after our spat - well, my shouting and his trying to calm me and explain - I didn't feel it was right to talk so soon. He was probably hurt.

I stepped inside my bedroom, throwing off everything other than my tank top and shorts. The walk I had planned to have didn't feel that exhilarating and calming anymore. I let my head hit the pillow. I stared at my digital clock on the end table beside me where my phone still rested. I watched as minutes began to tick by.

It was painfully quiet in my room. Being a chatterbox, I hated to be quiet. I allowed myself a soft sigh. A strand of my long hair fell onto my cheek. My thoughts shifted. My hair...

I sat up, going to the built-in bathroom to my left. I looked at my cerulean hair in the mirror, thinking to myself. I murmured a few words to myself until I cracked a smile. "That's it!" I turned the shower on and stripped, taking a very quick wash and, after about ten minutes, stepped out. I grabbed a towel and went to get the scissors in a separate drawer. I held some of my damp hair up. A smile pulled at my lips. I had no reason to not do it - I mean, I was growing tired of this hairdo. Why not give it a new, fresh look? I'd look a thousand times younger! Everyone would like it!

I snipped away at my hair, getting it to my preferred length. I dried my hair quickly, then snipped away at the loose ends. So far I just had straight hair. That was what I had wanted at first - but then I thought of something else.

After two hours of curling and twisting my hair to my liking, I had a woman with fluffy, blue hair looking back at me. I smiled for the third time. Then it fell. It didn't have much zing to it. I went into my room, my towel still around me, and shuffled around in the drawers. So far, I only had ponytail holders, headbands, bobby pins, and hair clips. I sat down on my bed with a great sigh. I ran a hand through my still-warm hair, closing my eyes. The silken sheets on my other arm felt warm - Mom must have washed and replaced them while I was in the bathroom. My eyes shot open. I sat up. "That's it!"

I went into my wardrobe and took out a long, orange bandana. It was a little long for my use, bit of snipping would fix that. I cut the silk orange accessory down to a strip of cloth, fitting it on my head just to make sure it was right. I gave a satisfactory nod to myself. Perfect.

I sat back down on the bed sheets that gave me the idea for the headpiece. I tied the orange bandana over my hairline, tying it under my hair tightly. I went back to the bathroom, seeing it in the mirror. It gave just the right amount of zing. I gave the brightest smile I've had in weeks at myself. I got dressed in my previous outfit I had on for the walk, the dark red sweater contrasting with the orange bandana. I gave my hair a light fluff before walking out with my new look.

The first person I ran into was Vegeta. I literally ran into him. He was walking past my bedroom when I walked right into him. He glanced at me, lingering on my hair for a moment before turning with a scowl. Either he was scowling about my hair or my running into him. I didn't much care. "Excuse me," I said, rolling my eyes, walking around him. I heard him go down the hall after I went downstairs. Once I got there, I saw both Mom and Dad in the living room, Gossip Girl on while Dad read the newspaper.

"Hey, Mom. Hey, Dad," I said in an upbeat tone. My mother looked over and she nearly jumped up from the couch in surprise. I smiled. "Do you like it?"

My dad looked over and a smile lit his face. He put the cigarette he had in his mouth out in the ashtray on the coffee table. "Wow, Bulma, when did you go to salon?" he joked.

"I did it myself." I held my chin up, hands on my hips. "Do you like it?" I repeated.

"Oh, Bulma, it's just darling!" my mother cooed.

"You did a great job!" cheered Dad. And on it went about my great hair styling skills. I smiled and thanked them for each one. I turned to go outside after they resumed what they were doing before when I saw Vegeta already outside. He must have gone past me while I was talking, or went out another door.

It was snowing outside. It wasn't surprising - it was nearing winter. It was only October and it was fall, but there had been odd weather signs of temperature drops. I guess snow was a consequence of that.

Anyway, Vegeta didn't exactly look like he was prepped for snow. He had evidently changed at some point in time, now dressed in a muscle shirt and shorts with sneakers. He went near the Gravity Room, but he didn't go inside. But he did start his normal regimen out there in the snow.

My jaw dropped. What was this idiot trying to do?! Get frost bite?! I swung the door open, thankful that I already had a sweater on. I approached him, luckily missing a blow. "What are you doing?!" I exclaimed.

"It isn't my fault you were standing there," he answered, not even glancing towards me. He didn't slow his pace either. He kept making blows at the snow as if he were fighting the snowflakes.

"No, idiot, why are you training outside?" I placed my hands on my hips, a frown on my face.

"The GR broke an hour ago." He stopped punching and kicking the wind. He finally looked at me. He scowled. "Your idiotic mother said not to disrupt you, even when I needed your assistance."

"For one, my mother is not idiotic!" I crossed my arms. "Two, she was right. I was depressed!" I turned away from him with a huff. Of course, I was exaggerating.

"Liar."

I snapped towards him. He wore a smirk, his bare arms crossed. And, from what I saw, he wasn't shivering. He had snow in his hair and on his shoulders, yet he didn't seem to care. I was shaking like a leaf despite the thick sweater I had on.

"What do you mean?!"

"You're lying. You were messing with your hair to make that monstrosity." He nodded his head toward my hair. My cheeks flushed in anger and from the cold.

"Monstrosity?! What?!" I uncrossed my arms, my hands clenched into fists as I advanced on the Saiyan. He made no move. "I worked hard on my hair!"

"Too hard. I believe you cut it a bit short." His smirk grew.

"I wanted it this way!" I gave my hair a light pat to emphasize. "It looks good! You wouldn't know, Mr. Extraterrestrial! You haven't lived here!" I gave a cold glare.

"I know enough to look at something and label it as a mistake." His expression showed no emotion. His arms fell to his sides, one moving to his hip. "Fix the GR."

"Fix the WHAT?!" I roared.

"The Gravity Room, Woman. You built it."

"I HELPED build it. But that's not the point! I am not repairing something for you when I've just been insulted!"

He rolled his eyes. His mood was beginning to go south. "I merely told you to the truth. Must you always screech about anything you're told?"

"What do you mean? I do NOT screech!"

"You call your yelling purring, then?"

"NO!"

He shook his head, a glare in his onyx eyes. "Just fix it. Otherwise you'll be stuck with me outside the window and in your sight. And, from what I gather of your screeching, you don't want me anywhere in your field of vision. Fixing the damn thing will benefit us both." He paused. "It'll also make you get over your fluff ball of a boyfriend." He smirked.

I glared at him again. "I'll fix the GR, but he is not a fluff ball." I strode to the door.

"Right. You keep telling yourself that when he goes for a more suitable woman." He strode toward the Gravity Room, the snow crunching beneath his feet. My hands were still clenched tightly into fists at my sides. My teeth ground against each other, toning out the sound of the crunching beneath me.

I pushed the front door open, shaking the snow from my hair and shoulders. Almost instantly a robot came along to clean it up. I ignored it, striding into the house with an angry frown on my face.

How could he say anything about a relationship and how Yamcha is? He's never been with anyone! All he's known about love is how to destroy it - killing families and breaking down homes. How could a killer know?

I mean, who would love a killer anyway?

(VEGETA'S P.O.V.)

I strode next the GR, an unsatisfied frown on my face. What could she know about training? All she knew was how to screech - screeching until she got what she wanted and until her victims' ears bled.

I made a low growl at the thought. How annoying could she get? She was insanely selfish. And narcissistic. And annoying.

Standing next to the GR, I leaned against the invention. Even her reason for coming out here was idiotic. Frostbite? Please. I've faced worse cold than this. If she thought this was cold, try some of Frieza's home planets.

The only thing different about this place and its cold was the time it came. On Frieza's worlds, snow came down constantly. I quickly got used to it, but I never did like it. Then again...it was a lot better than the sweltering heat of Planet Vegeta. I preferred cold to hot. Hot gave more consequences and fogged your mind - cold cleared it.

I caught a few flakes of snow in my hand. I heard something about this planet having designed snowflakes. How these little footprints of snow were able to have intricate designs were beyond me, but it gave enough to think about.

I was out a while before the woman and her father came out to fix the GR. "Try not to break it even further," I taunted to her as she walked past with her ridiculous hairstyle. Her cheeks were red, but she didn't seem fazed other than a frown at me. She murmured a sentence with a curse word at me, probably to not let her father hear, and she walked on. Whatever was wrong with female specimen was beyond me.

I went inside the large house, going up to the room I had. It was across the hall from the woman I despised, but other than that, I was fine with it. I stripped the muscle shirt off my person, exchanging it for a normal, blank t-shirt the color of indigo. I didn't do anything for the shorts or sneakers I had on.

I left the room, heading to the kitchen. I saw the insane woman's more insane mother in the kitchen with her blonde hair. She seemed to be baking something with a sweet scent. Cinnamon, it seemed. My anger seeped out of me.

I went past her, opening the fridge and retrieving a soda. Flicking the tab back, I took a long drink. Cinnamon.

I left the kitchen, hearing the mother say something to me. Something with "Bulma". Oh, right, the insane woman outside's name.

The scent of cinnamon followed to the living room. I growled inwardly. I took another sip of the soda. Any memory of her would slowly kill me, I was sure of it. My thoughts were interrupted when Bulma came in with snow dusting her shoulders and her hair. I barely gave a glance to her, but that was enough to let me notice her red cheeks and nose and pale skin. She normally had pale skin, but it was much paler than usual. She was most likely getting sick from the cold. I rolled my eyes. Idiot. She went outside, so it wasn't my fault.

I heard her let out a cough. I knew she looked at me, bit she didn't say anything to me. I was relieved. Speaking to her was like speaking to a harpy.

Harpy. That's exactly what she was. Loud and saying everything and anything labeled as "nonsensical".

The now-labeled harpy left with a package of what looked to be tools. Eventually her father would notice the symptoms of a cold - that or he's a blind bat. I wouldn't rule it out. He seemed just as insane as the rest of the harpy's family. He was just the least - he I could actually speak to about my needs for robots and the GR.

I heard someone else enter the living room from the left. I knew who it was before they took a whole step in. I gave an inaudible growl.

"Vegeta!" came the call. She approached me with a plate of freshly-made cookies. So that was what she had been making in the kitchen. I glanced at her, taking another swig of the soda.

Vodka. Vodka'd be nice with it.

"Would you like a cookie?" she asked, her blonde curls bobbing with annoying energy. "I just made them!"

Vodka. Someone just get me the damn vodka. Getting drunk would be so much better than listening to her. I growled. "No, Woman."

"But they're cinnamon!" She was persistent, wasn't she? I instantly knew where the harpy got her spunk.

"I said no. Now leave," I growled.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!"

She just smiled. "Alright, Vegeta, but they'll be on the counter if you want some later!" she chirped. I rolled my eyes, seething slightly. How annoying can one woman be?!

And as if the universe was attempting to spite me, the harpy came in. She gave a cough like before, but this one was longer. I could've cared less. It was her fault she was sick. If she hadn't gone outside, she wouldn't be in this mess.

Then her mother came back in. Two atom bombs for me.

"Oh, dear, what happened?" I heard her mother say, concern evident in her voice.

The harpy sniffed. "I just got a bit of allergies-"

"Bulma, dear, you know you have a bad immune system! Going out there in the cold was a terrible idea!"

"No, Mom, really, I'm okay-"

I heard shuffling of movement behind me, where they stood. I glanced to my left, seeing them both heading for the kitchen. I heard her mother saying something to her, but I tuned it out. I had no reason to listen about nonsense. Again, it was her fault she got sick.

Then her father came in, his annoying cat dusted in snow like he was. "Bulma?" He called. He too went into the kitchen. I rolled my eyes. I had no reason to be standing here in the large living room. I crushed the finished can of soda, going through the maze of a house until I got to my room upstairs. I tossed the soda can into the trash bin near the door. I sat down on my bed, sighing.

This family was completely insane. I officially made it a vow to keep that insanity away from me. I wasn't going to go senile here. That'd be pretty hard with the three of them conjoined - at least they understood that I didn't want to eat with them. That in itself would've done me in the first week. Three meals I got to be away from them. That and most of the day when I was training. Okay, it wasn't so bad. But a day like this when the GR was broken, my sanity was definitely tested.

Vodka. I'd only taken the alcohol once here. It tasted odd - different from the wines I've tasted in the past. To me it tasted sharp - it definitely left a burn in my mouth. But once you add something - I preferred lemonade or a soda, oddly enough - it tastes fine. Well, if you omit the burn. But I definitely needed something when they were in the same room. I wasn't even sure if you could get drunk with vodka. Either way, I would've been right as rain - or whatever it is - with it. It would've drowned them out. Even if it burned, it distracted you.

I wasn't an alcoholic, of course. I'd only tried vodka once. It was at some party the insane people had. Kakarot's family had come along as well. Ever since then, I'd been referring to it as something to distract me. But I didn't ever want to drink it again. I'd prefer something a lot more smoother and one without such a burn.

Like wine. Red wine.

Red wine. It brought a memory to mind. The smell it brought - it was strong, definitely. It was almost as strong as blood, but it didn't leave a taste of iron in your mouth. Red wine...I remembered it in a wine glass in the pale fingers of his. It almost seemed like a taunt everytime. Blood red eyes. Blood red lips.

I closed my eyes, exhaling. I opened them again, standing and leaving the room. In front of me, Bulma stood, a tissue to her lips. She was coughing.

"What are you doing?" I growled.

She crumpled the tissue and looked at me. "Going to me room. What's it look like?"

"It looks like you're in front of my door."

She looked at me for a moment. "Okay. And?"

"Leave."

A roll of her eyes gave away her mood. "Okay, jeez...I'm not in the mood to argue." She continued on her way, closing the door to her room behind her. The light was on. My light was not.

I closed the door of my room behind me, my mood worse than it had been. Cinnamon. Red wine. Her.

At this rate, I'll be relying on the thought of vodka everyday.

Or at least the prospect of getting drunk. I already knew I wasn't going to. But it was a nice thought. Getting drunk - even though I definitely wouldn't - would drown out the scent of cinnamon...

The poison of red wine...

And her.


	2. Chapter 2: Schemes

**(Hey, again! Many people say that Yamcha cheated and everything, but I decided just to give the reason of needing a more open relationship. I also noticed how most stories about these two it's only Vegeta who actually needs something to help him and gives him a reason to go to Bulma. Well, I decided Bulma needed someone who would treat her like she was the only one they saw.**

 **This story isn't meant to bash Yamcha at all! He's a really good guy!**

 **Hope you guys are enjoying so far! 3)**

Chapter Two: Schemes

-  
 _Dark Side- Kelly Clarkson_

 _Everybody's got a dark side_  
 _Do you love me?_  
 _Can you love mine?_  
 _Nobody's a picture perfect_  
 _But we're worth it_  
 _You know that we're worth it_  
 _Will you love me?_  
 _Even with my dark side?_

 _Like a diamond_  
 _From black dust_  
 _It's hard to know_  
 _It can become_  
 _If you give up_  
 _So don't give up on me_  
 _Please remind me who I really am..._

 _-_  
(BULMA'S P.O.V.)

I sneezed into a tissue, crumpling it up and tossing it into the disposal bin next to my bed. I groaned. I hated being sick. My bad immune system was deciding to kick my ass again. I coughed.

This was all Vegeta's fault. He was the one outside. He was the one he made me get concerned for him. He was only wearing a muscle shirt and shorts! I mean, who does that? It was SNOWING!

I turned in my covers, a curl of my blue hair covering one eye. I sneezed into a tissue again, throwing it away. I sighed. I sat up, sipping on the hot cocoa Mom had made me.

Vegeta. The crazy bastard that decided he ran the place. The elusive king of the castle. The ghost that kept coming back. God, I hated him. All he did was complain and avoid everyone. He never spoke unless it was an insult or he was spoken to. He never smiled. He never complimented or gave approval. It was like he never said a nice word in his life. He had an outrageous temper like an atom bomb set to go off in ten seconds.

A jackass. A jackass was what he was.

My phone went off.

I picked it up and saw it was a text from Yamcha. It read: "im coming over".

I sighed. He was probably hurt.

But I was hurt too, wasn't I?

I blinked. I pushed the thought from my mind. Yamcha was a wonderful boyfriend-

Ex-boyfriend. Well...no. He was still my boyfriend.

I sighed. He was probably not taking it well.

I'm not taking it well either.

A groan came from my mouth. My thoughts were going by too fast in my head. I rolled over onto my stomach, shoving a pillow on top of my head.

Why was he coming over?

I'm sick.

He should be over at someone else's place. Then again...I was his girlfriend.

So is that other girl.

He loves me. More than that girl. Then again...she actually had a tan. No wonder he liked her better. But I'm a lot more prettier...all she had was a pretty face. What about my personality?

Must you always screech about what you're told?

Why was Vegeta in my head?

Because he's right.

No, he's not. I can be reasonable...

I'm always complaining. All I do is yell at him. No wonder he thinks that.

I was done with my thoughts. I got out of bed, untying the blue bandana I had, but then froze. Yamcha hasn't seen my hair yet. I retied it before heading out of the bedroom, going to the kitchen to get something to drink. I pulled out the orange juice and a cup. I looked to my left and saw Vegeta right next to me.

He had a knuckle to his temple, his face in concentration. He didn't even seem to know I was here. I blinked. How I didn't see him when I walked in, I didn't know. I was probably too focused on quenching my thirst to notice my surroundings.

He suddenly opened his eyes. He looked at me calmly as if nothing was wrong with him. "What are you doing?" he growled.

"I'm getting orange juice..." I say slowly. "What were you doing?"

"Nothing. It is none of your concern." With that, he left. I watched him go, taken aback by his words. I rolled my eyes. A frown pulled my lips as I poured the orange juice, placing it back in the fridge. I brought it to my lips, downing the whole glass in only a few mouthfuls. I rinsed the glass and placed it in the sink.

I wonder what he was thinking about. It was hard to read him most of the time. He was just so solitary. A cold killer would be egotistical, and that's just what he was. A jerk. An asshole. A bastard. A moron. A prick. You name it, he's most likely it. But he definitely wasn't a saint, even if my mom wanted and made him seem to be.

What was it Goku had said? He had cried on Namek? He also told me that Vegeta had forced to work for Frieza...something about how he would've been different if not for that emperor.

Part of me thinks that's bullshit.

Your fate is written out when you're born. If you're meant to be a saint, then you will be. Life will drive you down that path. If you're destined to be a dictator, the same goes.

If you somehow alter it, someone else will replace you.  
It's a theory repeated many times. Many people say that all the people Adolf Hitler killed would've been spared if he hadn't been born or he simply liked the certain groups of people instead of disliked all of them. But, as the theory states, it wouldn't be so. Someone else would just replace him.

The universe has to keep balance. Or so I've heard it said in books.

If Vegeta hadn't gone under Frieza, someone else would've. Someone else would've been his soldier. Not a huge difference, other than the possibility of the lack of royalty. Vegeta would've never come to Earth, most likely without his bodyguard or whatever.

But someone would have.

I pushed my hair to the side, glancing to the front room when I heard a knock at the door. I coughed into the crook of my arm, opening the door. "Oh, Yamcha," I say. He was dressed in a clean long-sleeved blue shirt and dark pants. He looked tense, and then I remembered my yelling at him that morning.

He smiled, then it fell slightly when he saw that I looked sick. "Oh, wow...your mom was right. You do look terrible. You should be in bed." He didn't look as tense. His focus was now on my health.

"I was thirsty," I respond, letting him in. "I was just about to go back to bed." That, of course, was a lie.

"Oh. I'll help you into bed," he offered. I shook my head. He paused. "Wait, I didn't mean it that way-"

"No, but thank you, Yamcha." I gave a soft smile. "I'm okay." I coughed.

"At least let me get you some tea."

My smile widened. "There's no stopping you. Alright," I say with a playful sigh. I saw Yamcha blink.

"Oh, I just realized you changed your hair." He examined it for a few moments. "It's cute."

"Thank you," I say. "I made it myself." I gave a proud glance to him as I went inside, coughing on the way.

"How'd you end up sick?" He closed the door behind him.

"I went outside. You know, snow and all."

"Oh. Well, your dad should be inside, too."

"Is he outside?" I asked, turning to him.

He nodded. "Yeah. Working on the Gravity Room, it seems."

I gave a nod after hesitating slightly. I resumed walking forward. I went into the kitchen again after walking through the maze of a house. Yamcha looked back as if he were wondering what way we went, even though he's been here millions of times.

"Do you want tea now?" he asked gently. I nodded. He went to work making the tea, getting out a tea kettle from the cabinet under the sink, adding water and heating the stove. "Bulma?"

"Hm?"

"You were zoned out," he said with a chuckle. "I...said sorry about yesterday - I mean, uh..."

"Friday."

He nodded. "Yeah...the date. When I flirted with another girl." He gave a nervous glance at me. "I really am sorry. Please don't tell me you hate me."

"If I hated you, I would've kicked you out of the house as soon as I saw you," I pointed out, sitting down at the small table. I rested my head on my palm, watching him intently.

He turned with a sigh, leaning on the oven. He looked down at his shoes. "...I don't want you to think I'm a cheater. I really don't."

"I don't think you're a cheater." I coughed.

"...Do you think I'm unfaithful?"

"I think you want another girl." His head snapped up, his eyes showing his bewilderment.

"No, I don't! Bulma, I don't want another girl. I'm not looking to cheat with you-"

"That's not what I meant," I respond calmly.

He opened his mouth and closed it. He ran a hand through his hair. "...I'm sorry. What did you mean?"

I didn't respond immediately. I sat up, laying my arms over each other on the table. I looked at my nails, the light blue color looking back at me. I swallowed. I didn't know if I would offend him or not. I closed my eyes and took a breath. I looked back at him. "Are you looking for a more...elastic relationship? You know...where we can both see other people...but just not...exclusively?"

He blinked. "I...uh..." He had a thoughtful face, looking back down to the floor. He moved to cross his arms over his chest. He looked guilty and embarrassed, but he didn't immediately refuse what I had asked. "No," he said finally. He looked back up.

I looked at his eyes for a few more seconds before turning them to my nails. Light blue. The same color as my eyes and hair. Cerulean.

Sometimes I hated the color of my hair. It was too odd. Not many people had it, but I couldn't say I was the only one who had it. I couldn't tell if I was the only one with it being natural, however.

Thinking about hair was a lot easier than thinking about Yamcha. He didn't seem to mind I wasn't responding. I must've had a thoughtful look on my face. I chewed my lip, then let it go. I sighed.

Yamcha picked the kettle up off the oven, moving it to the counter. I watched him idly, my nails making small invisible circles on the table. It made no sound. Nothing in the kitchen did. It was starting to cause tension. Then I coughed. The tension grew.

My heart didn't beat with nervousness. It never quickened.

It felt like it stayed the same tempo.

Tempo. The speed of a beat. My heart felt like it had no tempo. It's erratic. Speed up, slow down. It could be a silly reason. Your favorite show turned on - speed up. It was interrupted by a commercial - slow down. I would never understand the heart.

I would never understand why it flutters when you're in love. When you're falling out of love, it slows down to where you don't feel it. Even when you vow to never love again, it goes and spites you. I hate it sometimes.

What if I marry and it flutters on first sight, but never flutters again? Maybe the wings were finally cut off. But I would want it to keep fluttering. Every time I see that person, I would want a soft little flitter in my chest. The flittering of my heart. But I never got it.

Maybe my heart never wanted me to be happy?

All it is is a muscle. What was I thinking? Yamcha was still waiting for my response. Yet here I was, thinking my heart had a mind of its own. And love...I already had love. Love was right there next to me. He was to my left...right?

My mind paused. It didn't continue even when Yamcha set a cup in front of me. I didn't know if he said something to me, as my mind was focused.

Yamcha.

The girl.

Did his heart flutter when he first saw me? Does it still flutter when he sees me? Maybe it doesn't. And his long hesitation. Maybe he was cheating. I had no clue. But I still loved him.

I might even be a fool.

Love makes everyone a fool.

No, love just blinds. Love lets the rest happen. Love lets you stumble into walls until you manage to fall into the wrong person's arms. Then it finally uncovers the blindness and there is your savior, looking at you with surprise as you just stupidly lie there in their arms.

Maybe I was like that?

Did I fall into his arms on my stupid quest to find the 'perfect boyfriend'?

And so what if I did? I wasn't even sure. Maybe he loved me just as much as I loved him.

What if I was wrong?

No, I needed to get facts. He loves me. That is a fact.

What if I was wrong?

He loves me. He shows me that everyday. In every sweet call he makes.

What if I was wrong?

He loves me.

What if I was wrong?

He only made small mistakes. He's only flirted, never real sex.

What if I was wrong?

He loves me. I love him.

He loved me.

No, that's not right. You can't just drop it.

He loved me.

I love him. He can't ignore that. Here he is, making me tea while I'm sitting here stupidly. Of course he loves me.

He loved me.

He puts up with me! He doesn't care when I yell. Even when he hears me yell, here he is taking care of me. Why do I make it seem like he doesn't love me?

He loved me.

Maybe I was wrong?

I closed my eyes. My thoughts always returned to those two statements. I opened my eyes again. Across from me Yamcha sat, looking at me expectantly. He hesitantly took my hand, running his thumb over the back.

My heart fluttered softly. I smiled softly. Then it fell. I picked up the cup and took a sip.

"I love you," he said tenderly.

"I know." For once, it sounded unsure.

"You okay?" It must have sounded like I had something in my throat instead of my being unsure.

I nodded. "Yes." I coughed. "Fine. I'm a little tired."

He nodded. "Okay. Do you want to go to bed?" I nodded. "Alright. I'll walk you up." I didn't object, taking my tea with me as he walked me up the stairs. He opened the door for me, leaving it open. I laid down, setting the cup on the end table next to me beside my phone.

The phone I yelled at him with.

He pulled the covers over me, gently kissing me on the forehead. "You definitely have a fever. Get some sleep. I'm going to head home. Call if you need anything." He gave a soft smile, his hand stroking my cheek in a sign of care.

I nod, a soft smile on my face. It was forced for once. My mind was too heavy for a real one.

I turned over, curling up under the covers. I heard him leave, closing the door behind me. I was still awake.

As much as I loved him, I had to make sure he loved me back. My mind wouldn't rest without proof, or at least some type of jealousy. And there was only one way to do it. There was only one...man to help me.

One way.

One man.

If this doesn't work, I'm definitely screwed. But I had no choice.

Two can play at the flirting game.

(VEGETA'S P.O.V.)

Cinnamon.

Red wine.

The harpy.

Each of these were weighing my mind. Cinnamon kept me thinking about my losses. I mean, I could have protected her. It didn't have to go down the road it did. He didn't have to do it. All she did was miss fifteen people. That's it.

Red wine. Red wine was the worst. I wasn't used to my freedom just yet. The thought left a sour taste in my mouth. I was finally out of his grasp. But he didn't leave completely. There was the occasional, vague dream about him. Merely moments after, I've already forgotten most. But each one would leave the sting of a burn on me somewhere.

Lastly, the harpy. Her. She was the most annoying woman I'd ever met. She didn't get that she needs to lower her voice. All she did was scream.

And complain.

And bicker.

And whine.

I was just about up to the bar with it. It was getting insanely tiring. So much so that I almost wished for the red wine to come back and leave with him willingly, if he were alive, that is. I sighed. Laying in bed and thinking about it wasn't helping me catch up to Kakarot.

The androids weren't concerning me. Trunks wasn't  
that strong. Not as strong as me, anyway. Maybe he was just too weak to defeat them himself. Even if I had died in that timeline, no one said that I couldn't just make myself stronger when it comes to it. This will be easy.

I got up out of bed, opening the door and leaving to go train.

Heading to the kitchen, my mind thought back to every moment in my life, starting with the death of my mother. I wasn't sure why. But the memory was fuzzy and vague. I didn't remember exact words or anything. I only remember the most important parts. I couldn't remember why she was killed, other than something about fifteen. Fifteen survivors was my best guess.

I pressed a knuckle to my temple, pressing lightly. A headache had come up. Father. Something with Father had made me go under Frieza. Wait. The mission-

I'm not under him anymore.

The notion of a mission was so normal for me, I had forgotten that I didn't need to exterminate the species. My knuckle pressed harder, my teeth grinding against each other. A headache was starting.

Orange juice.

I opened my eyes, looking to my right. Bulma. She had a quizzical look on her face. She had the container of orange juice.

I said something. We exchanged words. My mind was still on my freedom. My speech was on autopilot.

I was walking away. The headache was still there. The conversation lasted five seconds - that was what it felt like.

I went upstairs. I hesitated.

Training.

Training was what I was down there for.

I went back down, avoiding the attention of the harpy. I paused at the bottom. Why was my mind on overdrive? I needed to calm down. Just train. I let out a breath, relaxing my muscles and with them my nerves. I continued walking, new resolve in my consciousness.

Yamcha's voice broke my concentration.

He must have entered the house.

My headache intensified.

Just think about the GR.

As if on cue, the harpy's father came in with a smile on his face. He saw me and picked up his pace.

"Vegeta!" He was speaking over a cigarette. His cat was laying on his shoulder, dusted in snow just like its owner. "I just fixed the GR - you already have the robots installed."

I smirked. "That's all I needed to hear." I walked past him, heading outside and into the GR.

I didn't much like the GR outside. There were too many setbacks. One being weather. Sometimes - specifically when storming - the power cut out and the emergency power had to be used. It made everything insanely sluggish.

I had to take it up with the sane one later.

I changed into my armor, tightening the gloves on my hands.

"Finally. A distraction."

I smirked. A distraction was just what I needed. Those lunatics were starting to wear tough against my sanity.

A distraction.

That would change everything here to my favor.


	3. Chapter 3: Cracks

_(Sorry for the slow progression of the story! Juggling lots of stories currently 0v0' I'm super happy at how fast the story has been viewed and its receiving of followers! I hope you guys are enjoying so far! )_

 _ **...**_

 _ **True Love - Pink**_

 _Sometimes I hate every single stupid word you say_

 _Sometimes I wanna slap you in your whole face_

 _There's no one quite like you, you push all my buttons down_

 _I know life would suck without you_

 _At the same time, I wanna hug you_

 _I wanna wrap my hands around your neck_

 _You're an asshole, but I love you_

 _And you make me so mad I ask myself_

 _"Why I'm still here, oh where could I go?"_

 _You're the only love I've ever known_

 _But I hate you, I really hate you_

 _So much I think it must be_

 _True love, true love, it must be true love_

 _Nothing else can break my heart like_

 _True love, true love, it must be true love_

 _No one else can break my heart like you_

 _ **...**_

After a week had passed, I was feeling much better. I had made a near full recovery, save for a few minor coughs and headaches.

All through the week of recovery, I had been thinking through how to make this work. So far, it was simple.

Seduce Vegeta. That was easier said than done. The guy was extremely annoying to me, but Yamcha hates him more than I do. If I said I was with Vegeta, it would definitely make him feel the burn that I got when I saw he was flirting with another woman.

I paused. Of course, it had only been once or twice he flirted. Well, screw it, if I was overreacting, it didn't matter. I was hurt, that was all that mattered, right? Who cares if I managed to go a bit overboard? This is about me getting my revenge. There was no room for regret or second thoughts.

I was busy tidying my room when I heard the door open. It was Yamcha. "Oh, hey," I said, pulling the covers over my bed and tucking them into place.

"Hey. Feeling better?"

I nodded.

"Good." He smiled. "I got you some things from the bakery, too. They're in the kitchen, if you want them."

"Thank you!" I left the bed and hugged him. "You're the sweetest."

"You're welcome," I heard him say, wrapping his arms around me. I let go, feeling him do the same.

"I gotta go soon," he announced. "Puar and I have to go talk to Goku later." He smiled. "I'll come back after, though."

"I have to work on some things," I said, crossing my arms. "I don't know if I'd be able to give you some attention, Yam."

"Oh, okay. It's fine, B. I'll come by tomorrow?"

"I don't know if I have to go with my dad to a convention or not..." I went through my schedule of the week in my head.

His smile started to falter. "Oh. Um...are you available at all this week?"

"I don't think I have anything more than a few pockets in between for breaks..." I murmured. Yamcha sighed but then put an arm over my shoulder.

"Alright. That's okay. I'll come bring you things to keep the stress down." He gently kissed my cheek, smiling and heading out of my room and down the stairs.

My schedule would never do. Other than today, I had no way to seduce Vegeta. No time in my schedule allowed it.

I pushed it all from my mind and headed downstairs to see that Yamcha had already left the house. I didn't think my full schedule would make him leave so soon. Or, at least, I guessed that was what made him leave.

I took out a soda, cracking it open and taking a drink. I saw my mom come out from the left, a smile on her face. "Hey, Mom," I said over my soda.

"Oh, hello, dear. Good morning." She picked up a bag with extremely cursive handwriting on the front. "Oh, are these yours, dear?"

"Yamcha left them for me," I responded. I took them from her, watching her go to the living room. Usually this was the time she started cooking breakfast, but I assumed it wasn't going to happen. She did have some morning when she left it to the robots.

I opened the bag and took out a strawberry turn over. I took a bite, following my mother into the living room. I saw Dad there, a suitcase in his hand. He was near the front door.

He looked past Mom and waved me over. The strawberry turn over still in hand, I approached him.

"Bulma, you know the convention tomorrow? Well, I figured it'd be best that you didn't go." When he saw my reaction change to one with disappointment and my mouth open, he spoke quickly. "Dear, dear, it's a place with a lot of boring meetings! I don't want you to have to go through all that." He lit a cigarette, placing it in his mouth. Scratches meowed on his shoulder, clawing on the lab coat. "You're young. You need to live your life."

"But...we'd been planning it for weeks now," I said.

"I know. But I just think you'd rather go and spend time with Yamcha. I mean, you've both been rather distant for a while."

"He knows I'm busy, it's fine! I can deal with boring meetings-"

"Dear, your father has a point," my mom said gently. "You need to spend some time with Yamcha. He's such a sweet boy, I'm sure he's missing you."

I sighed, biting my lip to keep from talking any further. "Then why do you have your suitcase?"

"Eh?" Dad looked down at his hand, seeing the suitcase. "Oh! It'll take a while to get a spot reserved at a hotel and get there. I figured it'd be best I left today."

"Is Mom going with you?"

"Oh, no, she would grow painfully bored." He chuckled. "It's just me, myself, and I."

"I hope you have fun, dear!" Mom said.

"Wait, wait, you're leaving now?!" I exclaimed.

"Of course! I love you both! Tell Vegeta that his next batch of bots are in the lab!" He grinned, going out the door, Scratches and all.

My jaw dropped. I was stuck with Vegeta and Mom. The house suddenly felt a lot more empty. Now what was I going to do? Well, now I had more time to work on a few projects on the side...

My thoughts wandered to Yamcha as I walked back to the kitchen. Should I tell him my schedule cleared out? Well, that'd be lying, since I was filling it with more things. Those projects were important, so it wasn't like I was cheating him of it.

He would understand, I'm sure. What boyfriend wasn't understanding? It was totally normal I had a full schedule. He could hold out for a week.

And besides...I had a plan to work out. He would figure it out on his own.

 **...**

 _(VEGETA'S P.O.V.)_

For the past week, the harpy and her idiotic companion hadn't been talking other than the few visits I knew of. As for phone calls, I had no control or knowing over. But I could already tell the two were growing distant.

Overhearing that Bulma's father was leaving was almost a devastation. He was the most sane one in this house, and the only one I could request robots and repairs from without getting yelled at. How long was this damn convention?

Now I was stuck with the harpy's assistance. I would rather have no assistance instead. But of course, the goal of getting stronger than Kakarot delayed any complaint of who it was making my mechanical needs.

As the three spoke - the harpy, the insane mother, and the slightly sane father - I looked out the window. I just finished my morning training, and from the look of things outside, the harpy's boyfriend appeared to be enjoying himself to another woman.

He was leaning on his car, a sighing expression on his face. He was most likely confiding his problems into her. She didn't really seem to be listening, more focused on her blonde curls than his concerns of what I guessed to be the lack of attention. Her eyes kept wondering to his body.

Whatever.

Not my problem.

I stepped away from the window, leaving to the study. Reading wasn't anything foreign to me - it wasn't my favorite pastime, either. But it didn't annoy me as much as talking to Bulma.

The first thing I saw in the study was the multitude of romance novels. I growled. I couldn't stand how much Bulma appeared to love the genre. Love was an annoying illusion. And if I were to be presented with something as annoying as that, I would label it a distraction and send it off.

It wouldn't help if I had something intangible like feelings for someone. It would definitely hinder any hope I had of getting stronger. I wanted to stay as far away from any version of romance as possible; that included romance novels.

I closed the door to the study, going to the library on the south side of the building instead. As much of a maze this house was, it wasn't too hard to navigate. You just have to recall where've you been so far in the home and remember where it is. Once you've traveled everywhere, you're fine. Golden. No problems.

Well.

It isn't a problem until a certain blue-haired someone comes along to ruin it.

"Vegeta!" She approached me, her ridiculous hairstyle bobbing as she picked up her pace. "I thought you were in the GR."

I continued walking past her. My mood had definitely gone south. I was debating whether or not to blow her up once she caught up with me. She ended up walking with me.

"Well? What're you doing? Not training, shockingly."

"I have a schedule for training," I growled. "And where I am headed is none of your concern."

"It kind of is my concern. This is my house. I would like to ensure that I won't have to pay for property damage and all."

"I'm not going to blow anything up."

"But I don't trust you whatsoever. Where are you headed?"

We passed the library. She didn't need to follow me wherever I went. "Why does it matter to you?" I glared at her, only getting a roll of the eyes in return.

"It matters because I'm bored. I want something to do."

"Go spend time with your weakling. You need it." I wasn't giving advice - I just wanted her gone.

I sighed. "He's probably doing whatever he needed to ask Goku about."

"That or he's on a date with another girl."

"What? No. He already said he wasn't!"

I rolled my eyes. "He was outside with some girl." Hopefully she would leave. This was getting agonizing. Talking to her about her love life was how I was going to die. I was sure of it.

"Some girl?! That insensitive...!" She murmured cuss words, storming down the hall. I sighed inwardly. Finally.

I doubled back, entering the library. There had to be something of some degree of interest in here. So far I wasn't seeing any, but it didn't give me a reason to leave and find something else to do.

I picked a book off the shelf. The spine of the book said, "Pet Semetary" by some man named Stephen King. The cover of the book didn't give much away to me. Opening it, I was already intrigued. I'd read novels before - they weren't foreign. Many planets had gifted writers.

Just when I was getting into the writing style of King, the library door burst open. I scowled and closed the book, seeing the Harpy walk in, obviously pissed off.

"That little-!" She stormed about the room, ignoring my presence. I crossed my arms, observing her. Cursing, she picked a book off the shelf and threw it at the wall. "I can't BELIEVE him! He's off with that...that...WHORE!"

Throwing more books at the wall, I didn't make a move to stop her. She had seen her fill of the situation, obviously. But it didn't seem to be over.

"Bulma!" Yamcha burst into the room, appearing to be out of breath. A book hit his cheek, making him go backwards. "Hey!"

"Yamcha!" Bulma immediately halted. Me standing there was odd. It was like I was watching a mediocre play. She appeared upset - her fists were clenched and her teeth were clenched together. What gave it away most was the sharp glare in her eyes.

"Bulma, I'm sorry-"

"Yamcha, you can't just...with HER?! I'M supposed to be the one you're with! You don't flirt with anybody else! I'm supposed to be the only one!" Her voice faltered. Now tears were going down her cheeks. I rolled my eyes. That was definitely not the person I knew.

"I'm sorry. I really am. You know I love you." He approached her, placing his arms around her. And she allowed him to. No objections. Did she want him or not? I was confused and annoyed. What I'd prefer is for both of them to just leave and allow me to get the book I needed.

I was insanely behind on training. The Harpy in this emotional state wasn't helping, either. I growled audibly, moving past them and taking the book, leaving the library.

How long was the sane one going to be gone? It can't be more than a few days. That seemed insane. I would lose my sanity shortly - the sanity I had left, anyway.

If she wanted someone to only look at her, then she should be learning not to run back to him. If he was the type of man who couldn't stay with just one variety and she was the type of woman who wanted to be the only variety to a man, the relationship they have is going to be a bad one.

Now, I'm not one to brag about my own relationship status. I know for a fact that I hadn't experienced something like that many a time.

I shook my head, stopping in the living room and slumping on the couch. Then another screech sounded.

"Ohhh, Vegeta!" My mood hit a sharp decline again. It was the insane mother.

"What is it, Woman?" I said sharply.

She stopped next to the couch. "I'm going to go shopping for a few, alright? Can you watch Bulma?"

"Who do you take me for?" The request was ludicrous. I wasn't going ten feet near Bulma. Not while she was in her emotional train wreck.

"Oh, I'll only be gone two hours," she insisted.

"No!"

I picked up the book and left the room.

This place was insane.

I couldn't say it enough.

It. Was. Insane.

I murmured phrases under my breath as I went up the stairs, not stopping until I opened the door and slammed it behind me. I locked the door.

I didn't need them barging in and testing my sanity again.

I sat down on the bed, allowing myself to calm down. I, a Saiyan prince, shouldn't have to go through something like this. Then again, I'd gone through a lot of things. But this was probably the most annoying. Nothing during my servitude under Frieza annoyed me - just angered. I opened the book, flipping to the first page, finding the spot I was at before and continuing.

Stephen King was already a favorite author of mine by the second page.

 _(I'm not pleased with the chapter, but I hope you're liking! :3 Sorry for the long wait! Starting from chapter 5, I've picked up the story with improved writing and longer chapters. :) Wait until then, please!)_


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